Irony
by L.Lockheart
Summary: Irony, Bella reasons, was why she bled for Edward. Why she would always bleed for Edward. Takes place during Edward's abscene in New Moon.


**Summary: Irony, Bella reasons, was why she bled for Edward. Why she would always bleed for Edward.**

**Rated T : Depression, Cutting**

**Pairings: Bella Centric**

**A/N : If you review, I'll be more encouraged to write more. I really appreciate people favoritng/alerting, but it makes all the difference to hear your actual thoughts. thank you, i love you. Really I'm just happy to write to anyone who's reading, looking, listening, that's all.**

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It's dark again and the box cutter reflects off the moonlight outside my window. I don't feel anything except the dull thud of steady heartbeat. My insides feel empty, which is a tense, draining feeling that isn't not unusal for me. When I look at the lace curtains he used to come through at night and lull me to sleep stretches the hole in my chest, like a stomach robbed of it's nourishment and it throbs.

My fingers dance towards the blade in lithe movement that used to remind me of Alice walking. The gauge in the chest contracts at the recognition of her name. It's become a nightly ritual for me with the box cutter. Sometimes it's a frenzy of red seeping lines on the outer side of my arm where it doesn't hurt as much physically. Sometimes it's neat lines pressed deeply into the insides of my forearms. Sometimes it's horizontal, sometimes it's vertical and sometimes it's so close and so deep to the vein I scare myself a little.

I don't want to die.

But I'm human and humans feel pain, most of it caused by their own actions. The pain laced throughout my day is little too much for little human me and I resort to little human ways to deal with it. If he was here, I wouldn't dare. Because he would have never left and I wouldn't resort to bleeding like a dumb wallowing idiot.

But with only his bitter forlorn footprints in my veins that is left, I take the blade and run it over my fingers before I place it on my arm.

Slice. _Edward._

Sliver. _Edward._

Cut. _Edward. _

My head puts on a peaceful tune to distract myself in a waking somber and the gaping, gasping hole beneath my breastbone dulls. I let the blood stain my beige sheets, as a bitter reminder. My arms feel weaker than before, so I rest them feebly at my sides and pull the blankets up to my ears and I close my eyes though I know it will only be terror and nightmares to meet me.

It's always the reoccurring dream of the wet green forest, and I'm alone. It used to be Victoria, her feline limbs prancing viciously around me, her hair fiery flames dancing around her pointed face. Sometimes it was Laurent or James, but not often enough for me to remember exactly what happened. And now, it's him. His hair is longer and redder than usual and his body leans away from me like it did when I first met him in biology. He doesn't seem to know I'm there, in the dream, but I know exactly how much pain he causes me and I freeze when his eyes, black as night and filled with hatred staring right through me.

I always wake up screaming more shrilly and more hysterical than Victoria or James or Laurent.

Morning comes and I wear a navy blue long sleeved shirt over a pair of dark jeans. I examine myself in the mirror for a second. It takes a full minute for the realization to wash over me that my hip bones are sticking out more than usual. Now that I realize, I look more gaunt than my thin and pointed than my body did back last year. Of course, I do.

My stomach shakes and tingles in discomfort and I skip breakfast. I only notice that it's raining because my hands slips on the handles and I tip over due to the weight of my bag. Sitting here in the mud, I realize that I really am I huge klutz, and something is most likely bruised.

I get to school early enough to change into my P.E. sweat pants since my jeans are clammy with mud and rain water. I look down at my legs and observe how knobby my knees look now, so breakable and even more awkward looking. The first bell to signal five minutes to class interrupts my thought process and it feels like the fourth time I've been woken from deep thought slumber. I knew I had been staring at the mirror behind the sinks, but I don't remember what my reflection looked like.

I don't stir in my seat during Calculus. I have that hollowed out empty feeling again, like when you miss a step going down the staircase and you get a sudden gulp of thick air pushed down your throat. My body could feel people around me, settling into their seats, not bothering to look my way. But my mind was occupied. I didn't feel the need to pay attention so I focused on the window beside me, unstaring.

Everything in the courtyard by the high school looked beautiful. Wet, yes, but breathtaking. Shades of unimaginable green blended together in harmony, the freshly bloomed pink roses showcasing their inner beauty. An old, mossy birdbath stood in the midst, overflowing with rainwater as little finches in different gradients of brown and gray dip down to take a sip. The grasses beneath is dewy, the rain droplet from this morning drizzle making Earth's surface suddenly a diamond filled field. Though I was sitting in Calc and watching it from a distance, I couldn't help but admire it's splendor.

School's over and before I head out I see the courtyard that I was staring out three periods earlier. Passing through the not so empty halls I manage not to bump into anyone. But I haven't been too observant these past monthes, so I was left unsure as I rounded the exit door.

The leaves with wilted and others were crumpled, as the shades of greens were shades of how close to death they were. The bird bath was tipped over to the left slightly and it was overflowing with dirty water as pigeons drunks greedily from it. An obnoxious candy bar wrapper lay wet beneath a weed crowded shrub. An used condom laid a few feet away from where I stood, also. An unexplained urge of emotion came to me and I fled from the courtyard, the pain erupting in my chest from what I had seen.

It seems the pain did not cease as I tried as fast as I could to make my way home. Autumn's just beginning, the leaves turning yellow and red, though not yet shedding. If _he_ had been with me, I would have taken my time to look at all the beauty around me, just looking at it. I remember how I used to think about things like that in the summer, and I would just have to breathe, breathe in it's beauty, because everyone is so beautiful, so pure, so breathless.

Now I don't see anything.

It's like tunnel vision - only do I see what is directly in front of me, and everything else fades into a blank, foggy gray mist. It's funny - ironic, I guess, because I don't care what disappears in the gray area, I don't think about what could be leaving me. All I can see - is that he left me.

And that's reason enough for me not to continue breathing.

But with every goal, there are complications.

Like my father for instance - in the back of my head I knew I loved him, and losing me when he just got me would indefinitely hurt him. And my mother, dearest Renee. She would be beside herself with grief, and while I was driving home I felt my eyes rolls, a weird physical reaction to my thoughts. There are very few of those now a days. I knew I was not strong enough to do that to them, just as I was not strong enough to keep hold of Edward, prove to him I was worth it. I guess he finally saw that I wasn't.

The hole in my chest feathered out a little bit, like tiny bugs eating away at the edges of the hole, making in bigger. I knew one day it was going to get so big that I wouldn't be able to keep it inside me, and that was really when my time was up. I could keep it inside no longer, but I didn't fear it. It would be out of my hands by then.

My arms sting as I make dinner.

I guess it's progress, because it's the first pain I've felt that wasn't related to Edward.

Then again, I think the pain is all the same now.

My room is dark and the box cutter reflects the moon light outside my window. The breeze caresses my hair because now a days I always leave it open, just incase. Just incase he wants me. But I know I'm only fooling myself, only pretending to be worth someone's attention. It stings at first, when I press the blade to my arm, but it's better than the rotting cancer-hole in my chest, and when I press it to my skin again, I don't feel anything at all but relief. That's how it is, that's how it feels. Pain, then better.

I fall asleep curved up on the windowsill, and I half hope I fall right out onto the ground. It's nights like these that vaguely remind me of a book I once read about a girl falling in love with a boy who didn't spare her a thought - but she tried and tried, and despite her good heart and beauty, she gave up and killed herself. Of course, that whole story could have been made up by my own damn head. I make up a lot of things to ease reality, but none of them last very long.

The breeze shifts outside and I shiver, but I don't move. I'm half asleep right now, my eyes already closed though my body tense. I knew I wasn't strong enough to actually let my body go, because knowing me I would fall off the windowsill, and I wasn't half the person my brain told me so. A strange smell ran through the air, sweet, one so glorious and that I opened my eyes.

What I found made me fall back into my room, as I landed on my forearms, and I hissed, my method of coping biting me in the ass. I wavered, the sight of Edward Cullen standing outside my window making my toes curl and the sound of my heard speed up, faster than it had for a very long time. My ribs suddenly felt like they were made out of cement, heavy against my back, my neck stiff and my eyes watering.

Too quickly for my clumsy, dead beat footing, I crawled to the window, forcing myself to look out.

Nothing.

But really, I knew it had been nothing all along.

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**So this is kind of my angst because the first time I read New Moon, I was still team Edward, because I'm so pro true-love, and I'm hardcore Romeo/Juliet. But since then I've been left behind by my own boyfriend, my boyfriend of two(or so) years. We'd been best friends for six years before that, so I knew what it was like to be left like that, althought with me it hadn't happened to be so cruelly done. I completely understand people who are team Jacob, though he does irritate me in the third book, Eclispe, and I feel like Bella, though she is hurt, never stood her ground, still running back into Edward's arms after all he'd put her through. Sorry for ranting. Reviews?**


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